Shalom, Shalom
by Ink On Paper
Summary: In which Gibbs has been there before, McGee thought wrong, Ziva never even had a chance, Tony is a man with nothing to lose, and Vance failed . . . A tag to Shabbat Shalom and Shiva. Spoilerish.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Tag to Shabbat Shalom, so SPOILERish. Hopefully this will continue with a taggish piece for tomorrow night's episode as well. I kinda played with a different format, each numeral is a 100 word drabble done for each character ((I. Gibbs)(II. McGee)(III. Ziva)(IV. Tony)(V. Vance)). Keep the peace and much love, Kit.**

**DISCLAIMER: If it were mine, there would have been one less casualty.**

**"SHALOM, SHALOM"**

I.

You don't know what to expect (though experience whispers it will be nothing good). So you watch as she shakes McGee, demanding answers he's unwilling to give, and you know you were right in anticipating the worst case scenario (the validation lacks comfort).

McGee looks pale and horrified as he stares at Ziva's retreating back, and you can't help the chill that settles deep in the pit of your stomach. Wordlessly, you both follow in her wake, aware that you're likely about to be swept out to sea.

You wonder if she'll be able (willing) to tread water once again.

II.

You thought you had seen every facet of her emotional spectrum: the relaxingly playful, the carefully composed, the terrifyingly violent. You thought you had been doing this job long enough to have seen every range of human response to tragedy.

You thought wrong.

The sounds that are currently being wrenched from Ziva's throat are unprecedented in your memory. This is grief: stripped down, bare, and unapologetic.

You're vaguely aware of Gibbs standing beside you, watching the scene unfolding with a crestfallen gaze that belies a deep familiarization with decades-old heartache.

You wonder if he notices the bloodlust in Tony's eyes.

III.

The Vance children are motherless, their father a widower, and you an orphan, completely alone.

It's ironic, you think, that you're the last one left. Your mother (the victim of war), your sister (the casualty of war), your brother (the soldier of war), and your father (the pursuer of war) –they are gone. And you (the prisoner of war) are (miraculously, cruelly, unintentionally) still (for now) breathing (fighting, raging, slowly dying).

You wonder if you can walk away from it all, break the cycle of unending revenge.

You realize you don't have a choice.

You never even had a chance.

IV.

You were first on scene and, probably, the first to put the dots together: She wasn't at the table, because if she was, then she wouldn't be alive.

Once again, Eli David has endangered his daughter (_your_ partner).

She's sobbing and choking and murmuring words you don't understand, and you feel your throat tighten and your eyes sting. So you focus her pain and your terror (terror at the thought of losing her, of being too late, of no survivors) and you become mad.

She's a woman who believes she's nothing left.

And you're a man with nothing to lose.

V.

You want to rant and rave at God, at the universe, at Gibbs, who's staring at you with the understanding of a man who has stood where you stand and has lost what you're losing. You don't have time to entertain the thought of building boats in your basement (you don't have time to remind yourself that you have no basement). You're too busy reliving the moment that you realized the love of your life was bleeding out right before your eyes.

You took this job to protect what you loved most in this world.

And oh how you failed.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Tag to "Shiva" -ergo, SPOILERish. Each numeral is still a 100 word drabble from a different POV (see if you can guess eight and ten). Much love, keep the peace, Kit.**

**DISCLAIMER: If I had any say whatsoever, Cote de Pablo and Mr. Weatherly would be receiving awards for their performances.**

**"SHALOM, SHALOM: PART II"**

VI.

You really shouldn't be here, on your knees inside this quiet space, whispering familiar prayers that keep getting stuck in your throat. You shouldn't be talking as if you're actually being heard because you shouldn't even believe that someone is listening. Because for all the things you've encountered in this life (broken bodies and destroyed homes, motherless children and bloodstained basements), you've never encountered Him.

You asked for death all those summers ago, and only the sand shifting outside replied.

You ask for a sign that hope is not lost and you don't expect much.

You certainly don't expect _him_.

VII.

You follow his silent gaze to where your children stand, waiting, dazed, by the car. And suddenly all desire for retribution that had curled itself into your heart and made your blood run cold disappears. Because you aren't like Gibbs (thank God). Because twenty something years ago, Leroy Jethro Gibbs had no one left to live for.

But you do.

Kayla is staring off into the distance, pretending not to notice the tear-tracks on her brother's face. You lost your wife, but your children lost their mother.

And you can't afford losing them anymore than they can afford losing you.

VIII.

Your cell phone screen reads of one missed call and a voicemail. You wonder if it's that pretty girl from last Friday night as you press playback without checking to see who the number belongs to. You aren't expecting your son's voice to filter through the speaker, though it's both a pleasant surprise and immediate concern.

"Hey, Dad, it's me. Um, everything's okay –I've just been thinking about some stuff. About you. And, uh, me . . . Look, I forgive you. For all of it –for everything. I'll –I'll call you this weekend . . . I love ya, Dad."

You definitely weren't expecting that.

IX.

When people begin moving again (to their cars for warmth, to each other for comfort, to the broken family for condolences), you excuse yourself from Vance and Craig and make your way over to where Tony stands near his car.

"When's your flight leave?"

"One hour."

You knew from experience that he would follow her, so you nod and offer him some advice (a warning, a prayer, a plea): "Be on your guard."

"Of course."

You pat him on the shoulder and turn to go.

"And Tony?" You pause. "Watch her six."

He smiles a bit at this.

"Always, Boss."

X.

He looks up when he hears his name, staring at you in confusion when he realizes it was your voice that called to him from across the busy airport. You smile at him and nod, and, warily (suspiciously), he walks over to you.

"You are Ziva's American partner, yes?" you ask, but you already know the answer (Shmeil described him perfectly).

"Um, yes," he says slowly, as if expecting an ambush.

You nod, and stand, leaning heavily on your cane. You place a weathered hand on his forearm reassuringly. "Come," you tell him gently. "I will take you to her."

XI.

She's sitting in a chair at the edge of the sprawling courtyard, her knees tucked against her chest, a housecoat shrouding her shoulders. She's staring out beyond the rose bushes, beyond the olive grove, beyond the desert sunset.

"I did not think you would come," she says quietly once you're close enough to hear her. (She doesn't look at you).

"I didn't know if you wanted me here," you reply truthfully, watching her unfold herself and stand, turning to regard you calmly.

She shrugs. "It has never stopped you before."

When she reaches for your hand, you hold on tight.

* * *

A/N2: (VI. Ziva) (VII. Vance) (VIII. Senior) (IX. Gibbs) (X. Aunt Nettie) (XI. Tony)


End file.
